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Ursula Axilla Journal 1
Ursula Axilla Journal 1 What a day. What a day. I was fixed up in my spot, waiting to see if I could catch a glimpse of whoever came to pick up the info packet with my move in. I musta dozed off for only a moment before some flim flam over at Kitt's pitch woke me up. I was stretching my legs when I pegged It, cyborg, or bio-soldier... it was hunting. I know a tracker when I see one, I know a prowler when I watch one move across my field of vision. It was tracking some shify looking fellas that were conspiring on the edge of the Agora and then, when it got close enough to make its move, it went in hard and brutal. Was a hell of a thing to see. Like whenever someone throws down in the market, things went to hell in a handbasket. I tracked the soldier unit on its pursuit, hopped a barrier and had to make a call, pistol in hand. Watching that thing mash into its prey it soon became clear they were dead anyway, bodies just hadn't put 2 and 2 together yet. So I figured the fight would be over quicker if I gave a hand. Some little dame rolled in, tech-head from a glance, magic rolling off her tongue like silk off of skin - smashed one of those punks face first into the concrete. Beautiful. The fight didn't go so great for the targets, turned out they were even werewolves. Some Minotaur was trampling the Agora and things were totally out of hand. So I figured I could make my space available to some folk who wanted to stay out of the bru-ha-ha. So now i'm sat here with my type writer, i'll be sleeping in my chair tonight and over to my left is the soldier unit, a JD serial number, whatever that means. It's stuffing as much of the Old Man's chicken into it's face as it can and I only wish I had more. That skin ain't alive, but there's some spark in there somewhere. Poor thing. The pint-size dame is here too, using my camp bed to sleep off the shock of having her world view tipped upside down. She'll be just fine, I reckon, but there's just a learning curve to ride first. But she seems like a bright bulb and I've nothing to worry about her mech-magic. She's hunting freedom, to take it back to her people and maybe I'll take her down to AA some day. If our mistakes mean her world doesn't go down the same garden path, then it'll be all golden. The Demon Hunter monk is meditating in the far corner, that level of physical discipline is nigh unbelievable but there he is. He looks utterly gone from this world but I put good merch on anyone trying to sneak up and touch him will get a bent finger faster than a blink. Kitt is his same old self, a good kid. Like a jumping bean let loose, he got stuck in from the way he tumbled into the Office, he's sleeping it off in my bed out the back of the Office. I've never quite figured that boy out, there's a real age behind his eyes - the sort of thing you only get through pain or trouble. But he's always so flipping chirpy. I spotted a certain AA lady out on the Agora, her and her sassy poppop gun getting stuck into the Umbra Minotaur. I remember her face in the papers, she's a proper gal, all trouble but the interesting kind. I don't know if she ever saw much of the war, but she seems to be getting on just fine. Then finally we have the wild-man. He knows what he's doing and he knows what's what but he's no Warden and he's no Lord... so he's just been around. I've gotta meet up with Tezoac later, after he's done some investigating around the Agora.. he's curious as to why the Umbra construct appeared and I've got to tell you, so am I. But the people always gotta come first. He's all sorts of magical, tricky and tough - things are certainly getting more fiesty round the market these days. Anyway, now i'm gonna see if this soldier-unit can make sense of this type writer and try and figure out what's going on there. C'mon Lady Luck, you owe me.